


Floating

by Astronomic



Category: Red Queen Series - Victoria Aveyard
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 23:40:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28536777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astronomic/pseuds/Astronomic
Summary: how are you supposed to stay grounded when someone keeps pulling your head into the clouds?
Relationships: Mare Barrow/Tiberias "Cal" Calore VII
Comments: 4
Kudos: 27





	Floating

Maven hissed as I stepped on his foot for the fifth time that day. Credit due, he tried to keep his composure, but even I could see the annoyance start to crack through his princely façade. I could hear Evangeline snicker as she swished passed, and even Cal had to look away, biting his lip to keep himself from laughing.

“Sorry,” I whispered for the millionth time, stumbling to regain my footing. A waltz shouldn’t be this hard, only three steps at a time and all I had to do was follow Maven’s lead. But my feet, usually so sure and solid, fumbled awkwardly with the steady rhythm.

“Oh, it’s quite alright,” Maven said sarcastically, “I didn’t need those toes anyway.”

I bit my bottom lip to keep from laughing, and pushed his shoulder slightly. He smiled in response, and tightened his grip on my waist, leading me in a graceful circle around Lady Blonos’s room. Well,  _ he _ was graceful, anyway. Though I’d never admit it, I was glad he was leading. Maven expertly maneuvered us around the other waltzing pairs, somehow keeping us from crashing into them. It was the most elegant organized chaos I’d ever witnessed. The noble children and the two Calore princes had been taught to dance and prepared for balls for their whole lives. Dancing came as second nature to them as their abilities. And as usual, I was reminded how I didn’t belong here. My control over my lightning was shaky at best, and I couldn’t dance for shit. Even just keeping my back straight was a struggle, my shoulders burning with discomfort.

“The transition is coming up,” Maven muttered, “You’ll have to go and torture some other poor sap’s toes.”

“Already?” I gulped. This part was more terrifying to me than any training drills done with the Silver nobles.

Maven grinned mischievously, and Lady’s Blonos’s voice echoed over the music, clapping with the beat, “3, 2, 1, TURN!”

With a final guiding push, Maven twirled me around, and let his hand slip from mine. I knew what was supposed to happen: all the women were to spin as one, and end up with a new dance partner. Apparently it looked beautiful during the actual ball, with a flurry of skirts across the floor. Even now in the rehearsal, everyone looked wonderful. Except for me. Nerves seized me and I hesitated a beat too long, spinning in an awkward circle. And when I came to a stop no one was in front of me. Someone cleared their throat to my right, and I glanced over to see Ptolemus, his hand extended, standing where I was supposed to be. Annoyance glittered in his black eyes, his face pulled together in a tightly crafted mask. But I could tell he didn’t find my blunder endearing, and neither did Lady Blonos, as the music came to a screeching halt.

“Lady Mareena.” Agitation dripped from her words as she waddled across the room to me, “We are conducting this rehearsal mostly for  _ your _ benefit. I would appreciate it if you applied more effort.”

“I’m trying Lady Blonos, I just gotta get used-”

“ _ Have to _ . ‘I  _ have to _ ’ get used to it. Do you retain nothing, girl?”

I was glad for the time spent painting my skin, because I could feel my cheeks heat with shame. And maybe a bit of anger too. It’s not my fault I wasn’t born with a silver spoon and a proper education. It’s not my fault all these fucking Silvers took standard human rights away from us.

“Yes, my lady.”

“Shall we start again from the top?” Blonos sneered as she hobbled back to her place by the music box. 

The room shuffled as the dancers returned to their previous partners, and a slightly miffed Maven appeared before me again. I took his hand easily, used to it by now. Not just from dancing, but from being paraded around the palace. It was weird how quickly he became familiar to me, like Kilorn or Gisa. In my first few weeks his touch made me nauseous, but now I felt nothing as he placed his hand on my waist, waiting for the music to start.

“Guess your toes are still getting tortured,” I said with fake sympathy. Even though he was the prince, I’d rather step on Maven’s feet than Ptolemus’s.

“Unfortunately. It’s ineluctable,” he sighed dramatically.

My brain screeched to a halt, fumbling over the word, turning it over and over like a puzzle box, “Ine- _ what _ ?”

“Unstoppable,” Maven defined, “Unable to be avoided.”

“You could just say  _ doomed _ , or whatever,” I grumbled. The princes had grown used to me asking them to define words for my barely literate brain, but it never got any less embarrassing. Even though it shouldn’t be. Every single person in this room was the reason I had half an education. I was designed to be dumb so I would follow their orders. March brainlessly into death so they could rehearse for their balls. Maven’s touch was starting to become sickening again.

The music flared to life and I was thrown back into the waltz. Maven kept a wide distance between us this time, trying his best to avoid my awkward feet. Vaguely, I noticed other couples doing much more complicated spins and twirls and hand holds, but it was all I could do to complete a circle around the room. Maven must be awfully bored with me.

My eyes found Cal, despite not trying to. He was as graceful a dancer as he was a fighter. Every step he took was sure, confident, leading Evangeline around in a complex zigzag through the crowd. He managed to avoid every one, and made it look good. What a hard life he must lead, to be good at everything. I found myself staring at his hands on Evengeline’s waist, and I wondered what it must be like to be held by him like that, gliding along, perfectly in step with the music.

“Transition’s coming again,” Maven warned, snapping me back to reality.

“Shit.”

“3, 2, 1, TURN!” Lady Blonos counted, and I was spinning again. 

I could’ve spun off a cliff for all I knew. I had no bearing, and no idea where I was. I tripped over myself and stumbled into a couple, while a Rhambos noble stood where I should be, his hand outstretched for mine.

“By my colours, girl,” Lady Blonos fumed as she stopped the music again. Her face screamed murder. She looked like she wanted to turn me inside out. For a moment, I feared she might.

“Perhaps we shall rehearse something else, then?” Cal stepped in, Evangeline hanging off his arm like a predator marking her territory.

Blonos balked, but bowed her head all the same. Even she couldn’t resist the prince’s word. “Very well, your Highness. What would you like?”

“The House Orders?” Cal suggested.

“Then we shall do the House Orders. Quickly now!”

The House Orders, as explained to me by Maven, were mostly for the princes. They had to dance with every maiden who participated in the Queenstrial as a display of respect to the families who lost. And by  _ they _ , it was really Cal. Maven and the other noblemen were there to dance with whoever wasn’t dancing with Cal in the moment. And if I hadn’t come crashing in and fucked with everything, the House Orders would’ve been Maven’s opportunity to pick a wife for himself after the ball. Or so he told me. It all seemed like a very annoying and convoluted way to stroke bruised egos and keep everyone in check. But what was great about the House orders, was that I only had to dance with Maven and then I could sit down. Not only did I not  _ technically _ participate in the Queenstrial, but I was engaged, and the House I “belonged” to was now obsolete. There was no need to please House Titanos, when all the House members were dead, and my fake ass was already in with the royals.

A small part of me wondered if Cal chose that on purpose to give me a break. Or to give Maven’s feet a break. Whichever fit better.

This waltz was much slower, and though I was still bumbling around like my legs were made of wood, Maven’s feet were left untrod on. We finished the dance without any casualties, and I was mercifully allowed to step to the side. The royals and nobles glided through without a single misstep, following some unspoken order change they’d no doubt been taught since they were children. They all switched partners without the slightest hesitation. The only flaw I noticed were the girls too eager to jump into Cal’s arms when it was their turn, and too reluctant to leave when it was time to switch.

Something hot and ugly bubbled inside of me as I watched them cling to his hand and shoulder. It was the same feeling whenever I saw Evangeline draped over him, staking her claim on the prince. 

I was jealous. I chewed my bottom lip anxiously.I didn’t like feeling this way. I didn’t like wanting anything from a Silver, and I didn’t like pining after one. But like all the other Queenstrial maidens, I wanted his attention on me, and his hand in mine, and to be the only one in his world. But he was engaged to Evangeline, and destined to be king. I was not in his future.

Lady Blonos rapped her fan against my arm with a hiss, “Stop biting your lip, girl!”

I swear, the day I get my electricity under control, I’m gonna fry her so badly she won’t be able to heal herself.

The House Orders lasted forever, seeing as there were at least two members per household. I’d lost track of time when someone sidled up to me, the familiar crackle of heat snapping me out of my bored daze. Cal stood beside me, a mischievous smile on his lips as he watched the waltzing group. I stared at him for a moment, confusion taking over every thought in my mind.

His bronze eyes glanced sidelong at me, catching my gawking, “Is there something on my face,  _ Lady Mareena _ ?”

My stomach fluttered. I hated being called by my fake name, but there was something about how Cal said it. Something in how his voice deepened with the word  _ Lady _ , like he was addressing me wholeheartedly. As if he saw me on the same level as him.

“No.”  _ Just your beauty and perfection and gorgeous eyes and plump lips and- _

“Then may I inquire as to why you’re staring at me?” His grin widened.  _ Asshole. _

“Aren’t you supposed to be dancing?” I asked dumbly, barely keeping my words from tripping over one another.

“Well, I’ve run out of partners, you see. Maven is dancing with Evangeline, and since his betrothed has excused herself from participating and everyone else is paired up, I’ve nowhere to go but wait on the sidelines,” he said, turning his attention back to the dancers.

Through the crowd, I caught sight of Maven and Evangeline. Their dancing was elegant, as expected, but they looked so repulsed by each other it was as if they were the same polar end of two magnets being forced together. If they had to dance for much longer, I feared they’d fly apart. I bit my lip to keep from laughing. I hoped Lady Blonos wasn’t going to smack me in the arm again.

“Well isn’t that a shame. The crown prince, wasted on the sidelines.”

“I know, quite tragic,” he sighed wistfully, folding his hands behind his back.

I stifled another laugh, and played with the end of my braid. “Do you even like all this stuff?”

Cal frowned, turning his attention back to me. “What  _ stuff _ ?”

“This,” I gestured to the waltzing, “All this ball and dancing stuff. Do you even find it fun?”

“I don’t mind it. I don’t care for the clothes I have to wear though. They’re always so stiff and uncomfortable.”

“I don’t know, I find it hard to believe you actually like these things.”

“My father enjoys it the most, actually.”

“The King?” I gasped. I didn’t think that musty old fool found joy in anything but humiliating Reds.

“Yes,” Cal chuckled, “It amuses me as well.”

“Why?”

“I suspect they hold a dear place in his heart. It is how he met my mother, after all.”

“Really?” I remembered something Walsh explained to me a long time ago. How there wasn’t a Queenstrial for Coraine. King Tiberias forwent the competition and chose Coraine outright as his queen.

“Yes. He tells me about it all the time. Apparently he fell in love with her the first time they danced together.”

“Really?”

“And at every ball, he made sure to dance with her the most.”

“How can you fall in love just by dancing?” I’d spent several days dancing, and there was nothing romantic about it. Maybe it was different for people who actually knew how to dance.

“He told me the music and the dresses make everything different, but I’ve yet to find anything even remotely magical about it. Balls are balls, and as I’ve said I don’t mind them, but I’d rather not stay longer than necessary.”

“Yeah, that’s more what I thought.”

“I suggest you grow more accustomed to them. This won’t be the last ball you attend,” he shrugged.

“Right,” I grumbled under my breath. “Because I’m being held prisoner for the rest of my life.”

Cal winced, turning to me with an imploring look, “That's not what I meant to sa-”

“You two seem awfully chummy,” a nasally voice drawled, and we were greeted with Evangeline and Maven striding towards us. She had her hand on his elbow, but that was more from decorum and Maven’s princely upbringing than friendliness between them. “What are you two talking about?”

“Mareena was just inquiring about the House Orders,” Cal lied flawlessly. “How the order is chosen and such.”

Evangeline hummed, “Did you learn anything, Mareena?”

“In one ear and out the other,” I said, which wasn’t completely false. Keeping track of all the Silver House and their internal hierarchy was nearly impossible.

“I shouldn’t be surprised,” she jabbed, and reached for Cal, wrapping around his arm like one of her mother’s snakes. “Rehearsals are over anyway, and we have other matters to attend to. Farewell Your Highness, Mareena.”

“Evangeline,” Maven nodded but I stayed put and kept my mouth shut.

I watched as she whisked Cal away, no doubt to talk about wedding plans. A scowl twisted my features, and my mouth was speaking before I could think about what I was saying, “I hate her.”

Beside me, Maven snorted, and held out his arm for me to take. “Don’t we all?”

-

I gasped as the attendant yanked on my corset, tightening the cords. I could feel the crushing pressure on my ribs, squeezing the life out of me. I was scared my bones would crack if I moved too much. In the mirror’s reflection, the attendant gave me an apologetic glance. They still hadn’t talked to me, but I ate up anything that wasn’t straight faces and eyes cast down. I smiled back at her in the mirror as she returned to her work.

While she tightened the death trap, the other two set to their usual routine of painting me, the translucent paste leeching warmth from my skin. I hated watching myself fade from an olive-skinned Red to a grey-tan Silver, like I turned from alive to walking corpse. They painted my face, shoulders, mid-back, and down my arms just passed my elbows. And when my corset was secure and my skin sufficiently painted, they brought out my gown.

It was fashioned from deep purple satin and overlaid with delicate silver lace, the Titanos colours. Embroidered flowers with diamond pollen heads were stitched into the lace pattern, looking like a tree shedding flower blossoms near the end of spring. The sleeves were nothing more than thin straps of crushed diamond, and the lace train trailed out a good two feet behind the rest of the dress. They slipped it over my head, and I’d never felt anything softer. It clung to me like a cool blanket, soothing my hot skin like a fresh glass of water. The attendants paired it with purple satin shoes and white lace gloves that went up to my elbows.

My hair, massaged to death with shea butter and thoroughly brushed through, was curled softly with an iron and pinned over one shoulder with pearl hairpins. Then they applied the finishing touches, red on my lips and black lining my eyes, and turned me towards the mirror.

For three months, I’d been dressed and paraded around like a Silver, but this was the first time I felt like a noble. If no one knew my life, where I came from, no one would doubt I was the long lost daughter of a fallen Silver house. I scolded myself, tried not to get too wrapped up in the splendor, but it was hard to ignore that inner little girl who fawned over glitter and dresses.

“Wow,” Maven’s voice made me jump, and I twirled around, the skirt of my dress swishing at my feet. Maven stood in the doorway, dressed in his Calore regalia, black and red and silver filigree, with his war medals polished and glinting, and a circlet of rose gold on his brow. “You look great.”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” I made my way to him, trying my best to  _ glide _ , as Lady Blonos put it. I wasn’t sure if I was succeeding. “Is it time?”

Maven held out his elbow for me. “‘Tis.”

The ballroom was elegant and grand. The tiles of the floor were polished marble inlaid with gold, the walls and ceiling alive with wrought iron and silver in intricate patterns only a magnetron could accomplish. The diamondglass windows were tinted different colours and circled the room, one window per House. Tables covered in linen tablecloths and decked out with silverware lined the room, but left a large circle in the middle of the floor. For the dancing, I realized with a gulp.

The ballroom was already full by the time we were announced, a rainbow of colours bowing as the royals marched in: the King and Queen, followed by Cal and Evangeline, then Maven and I. I tried not to shake visibly as I stared out into the sea of Silvers. All their colours reminded me of a nest of venomous snakes, and I was the poor mouse who stumbled into their lair. I hoped my Silver paint wasn’t sweating off.

“Welcome, comrades,” King Tiberias’s voice boomed across the ballroom. “I want to begin by thanking the House’s who participated in the Queenstrial, and once again extend my congratulations to Evangeline and House Samos for the engagement to my son, Prince Tiberias the Seventh. And to celebrate this special occasion, the Calore Princes and the participating Queenstrial Houses will start the night with my favourite tradition: a dance!”

The ballroom filled with applause. I closed my eyes to keep them from rolling. Silvers really ate up this crap, didn’t they?

The room rippled in a kaleidoscope of colours as the Queenstrial maidens and brothers stood from their tables to line the dancer floor circle. Cal and Evangeline drifted forward into the middle. Evangeline’s dress was a curtain of liquid silver, shimmering with every movement. Cal wore the same as Maven, though he had more war medals, and his rose gold circlet was thicker, and infused with crushed rubies. I focused on Evangeline, refusing to think about how Cal’s crown matched his eyes.

The music started and they began to dance, moving in perfect harmony. The more I watched, the more nervous I became. They glided across the floor so elegantly, how would I look next to them? Maven’s hand appeared in my peripheral, telling me it was almost our cue to join them. I gulped and laid my hand in his, running over the steps in my head.  _ I dance with Maven until every couple is on the floor, and then the transition comes after six beats… or is it twelve? And how many times do I turn again? _

“Mare,” Maven muttered through clenched teeth, “You’re squeezing my hand.”

I flinched and relaxed my hand, not realizing I was clutching to Maven in a death grip, “Sorry.”

“We’re up soon. Are you ready?”

“No.”

“Too bad.”

Maven guided me forward to the middle of the floor to join Cal and Evangeline, resting his hand on my waist. He began dancing just as the music began to swell, perfectly on beat. I, on the other hand, could only dream to keep up with him, my feet stomping around clunkily. It’s a good thing my dress hid that tragedy from the nobles.

“Head up, Mare,” Maven said through a smile.

“Right.” I raised my chin, and prayed to whoever was listening that I'd get through this in one piece.

One by one the couples filed onto the floor until we were all dancing together, the same organized chaos from Lady Blonos’s rehearsal. I counted the beats, and when twelve passed I realized I was way off. My brain turned off as it seized with panic again, and I stepped forward too soon, right onto Maven’s foot.

He hissed, his formal façade breaking for just a moment. “Had to get just one in, didn’t you?”

“I’m sorry,” I winced, stumbling to regain my rhythm. If I even had any to begin with.

“No matter, the transition’s coming up.”

“Wait-”

“Ready?”

“No-”

Maven let go and I was spinning blindly across the floor, my dress fanning out in a ripple of purple and silver. Well, at least I’ll look pretty when I crash and burn. Rough hands grabbed my arm and waist, and I was pulled in to see my shocked face staring back at me in a reflection of metal. I looked up, Ptolemus’s face greeting me. More like a scowl, but whatever. I was too surprised to notice.

“I did it!” I said in an excited whisper.

Ptolemus rolled his eyes. “Barely.”

Though I was supposed to keep my head up, this time I kept my eyes glued to the floor. No way I was stepping on Ptolemus’s toes, not if I valued my life. Ptolemus was a much less graceful dancer than Maven, he pulled me around more like I was a weight at the gym than a person. But all the same, he knew where to put his feet at what time, which is more than I could say for myself.

“Get ready,” he grunted, and I knew what was coming up.

Another transition. But not just one. Four of them in quick succession, never ending spinning, passed from dancer to dancer until the song came to its end. I didn’t think I’d survive.

With one last grimace, Ptolemus let me loose and I closed my eyes. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if I didn’t see it happen. I quickly devised my strategy: don’t stop spinning until someone tells me to. I felt hands on mine, grabbing and twisting me around in an endless cycle. It was supposed to be a beautiful spectacle, but I couldn’t open my eyes. Not until a pair of warm hands grabbed me and steadied my whirling feet, the music coming to an end with a flourish.

I opened my eyes to a pair of golden ones, Cal’s face smug as he dipped his head in a shallow bow. I did my best to curtsey without tipping over.

“How was that?” his voice was low enough for only me to hear. It washed over me like a warm blanket.

“Terrifying,” I answered, “Thanks for catching me.”

“My pleasure,” he chuckled, and my legs felt wobbly from something other than the spinning. He bowed again, and turned to leave, “House Orders are next.”

And just like that he was gone, sifting through the crowd back to Evangeline. 

In a second, Maven appeared beside me again, “How do you feel?”

“Dizzy. I want to sit down.”

Maven took my waist again as the crowd settled back into their original couples. “You will in a moment, you just have to get through this one. And Mare, please, try not to step on my feet this time.”

He did not get his wish.

-

Sitting ramrod straight, watching the dizzying swirl of colours as they danced the House Orders, was murder on my back. At least the chair was comfortable. Well, comfortable was an understatement. It was the most plush velvet cushions I’ve ever encountered, bringing a modicum of comfort to my screaming back.  _ Chair _ was also an understatement - it was more like a small scale throne, with a high back and thick gilded armrests. There were three more like it lined to my left for Maven, Cal, and Evangeline. And sandwiched in the middle was Elara’s diamondglass seat, and of course, King Tiberias’s Burning Throne. To go with his ridiculous Burning Crown. My people were dying so he could keep those silly things like crowns and balls. 

I had to turn my face to keep my sour expression from the crowd. The luxuries here were something I never thought I’d have, but I couldn’t get swept up in them. I couldn’t lose who I was. The thought made me nervous. If I had to keep reminding myself already, only three months in, what will I be five years from now? Ten? When I officially gained my princess title, and have royal children of my own. Will I be the Red princess saviour I want to be, or will I be absorbed by this world of finery?

Applause broke my thoughts as the second to last dance of the Orders ended. I turned back to watch Maven move to Evangeline - their hatred for each other always lifted my spirits. But instead, I was greeted with a white gloved hand held out towards me. I blinked, looking at its owner. Bronze eyes, black hair crowned with a braid of rose gold. Cal stood in front of me with a smile that could melt steel, and also my heart.

“May I have this dance, my lady?” he asked softly.

I tried to catch my breath, “But I thought… you could only dance with Queenstrial participants.”

“You participated, didn’t you?” he grinned.

“If you count crashing and burning participating.”

“Good enough for me.”

“Cal, I don’t think we’re allowed-”

“Are you really denying a request from the crown prince?” he interrupted me with a glint in his eye.

I swallowed hard, and slipped my hand into his. Even through both our gloves, his warmth coursed through me. His fingers enclosed around my hand, and I stood, my legs moving on their own. There was a softness on his face that I couldn’t place as he led me towards the floor.

I was well aware of the eyes on us as we rejoined the dancers. We weren't supposed to be here. I wasn’t supposed to be dancing with him. Was I committing some sort of political taboo? I wasn’t sure. All I knew was the way my hand felt in his, and the warmth that surrounded me when he placed his hand on my waist. It was so hot, I thought it might burn through my dress and scorch me like a brand. His touch was too much and not enough. I wanted to be wrapped up in his arms, safe and warm.

The music started, a soft, sweet melody that seemed so out of place in a lair of predators. Cal began to dance, guiding me with him in an effortless glide. I followed him, too caught up in his eyes to think about my feet.

“You look stunning,” he said quietly, as he led us across the floor.

My heartbeat tripled. I felt his complement sink into my bones. “Thanks. S-so do you.”

“Do I?” Cal smiled. The corner of his eyes crinkled cutely.

“Well, yes. I mean-” I caught myself before I could finish. What was I doing? Cal was engaged.  _ I _ was engaged. My life and the safety of my family depended on me living a perfect lie. But his eyes drew the words out of me. “You always do.”

“You think so?” he laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

“I was going to say the same about you.”

I could’ve melted to the floor. Damn. Did he do that on purpose? Was there some kind of Prince Charming handbook he grew up with? It was like he always knew exactly what to say to make my knees weak. This was dangerous. Cal was too much of a distraction to keep my wits about me, and I was too weak to resist him.

He twirled me around and for once I didn’t feel scared. My dress fanned out, an elegant swirl of purple and silver, the diamonds sparkling in the light. When I faced him again, something clicked in me. I don’t know what it was. Maybe it was in the way his hand slid back onto my waist, or the way he gazed down at me, his ember eyes drinking in my face. The rest of the room faded around me, until all that was left was him and the music guiding our feet; and all I could think about was a story of a prince and maiden who danced together for the first time.

_ Oh _ .

“I get it now,” I whispered.

“Me too,” he whispered back.

Why did they call it  _ falling _ in love when I felt like I was floating?

Cool metal brushed my collarbone when I noticed I was leaning in to him. His hand pressed against my lower back, holding me to his strong chest. This wasn’t proper dancing protocol. His thumb brushed over my knuckles, and I felt an electric tingle that wasn’t my lightning.

I couldn’t feel the ground under my feet anymore. Were we still dancing? I couldn’t tell. All I knew were his searing hands on me, and the intoxication of him. His eyes like pools of lava that I would jump into without hesitation. And his lips, plush and soft, were so close to mine. I wondered what it would be like to kiss them.

I couldn’t read his mind, but the way he gripped my hand, and looked at me with an aching sort of longing… I allowed myself to imagine he was thinking the same as me. Why couldn’t he be the second born prince? If only I could marry Cal instead, my new life might just be bearable. I gripped his shoulder like a lifeline, unwilling to let go.

But the music was fading out, and the ballroom came to life around me again. Cal spun me one more time, and held me at arms length, like he’d do something he’d regret if he got too close again. I fear I’d do the same.

“Thank you for dancing with me,” his voice was coated with something that made me want to pull him from the ballroom and run from the castle, far away from Houses and thrones.

“My pleasure,” I breathed. It was all I could manage.

He stood for a moment, as if deciding what to do. Then he raised my hand to his lips, and pressed a gentle kiss to my knuckles.

It ached more than anything. Because I wanted him to do it again and again. On my hands, my arms, my body, my lips. I came to a revelation that I was in love with him in a world where he could never be mine. I only wished I could ask him if he felt the same.

But Evangeline and Maven came too soon, and pulled us apart without a word, back to our seats separated by the King and Queen. A fine representation of my fate. The one I love destined to be King, and me sentenced to be a prisoner under a crown, watching from a far as Reds died for my forced life of luxury. It wasn’t fair.

I glanced towards Cal, despite myself, and found him staring back. I tore my gaze away, cursing the feeling that fluttered through me.  _ I’m doomed _ .

The Silvers were the trap and Cal was the bait, and I’d wander into their clutches any time if it meant I could be near him. 

Always.

**Author's Note:**

> idk what this is. i just had an image of mare and cal waltzing so i wanted to write it.  
> i have an actual story planned that i'll start working on soon, but i hope you enjoyed this in the meantime!


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